


Shorten the reigns

by StormXPadme



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies), The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, BDSM, Cock Piercing, Come Eating, Deepthroating, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, Light BDSM, M/M, Nipple Piercings, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Post-Battle of the Hornburg | Battle of Helm's Deep, Restraints, Rimming, Rohan (Tolkien), Rough Oral Sex, Spanking, Third Age, based on movies and books except for the Hobbit movies, non lace compliant
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-22
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-14 13:21:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28921248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormXPadme/pseuds/StormXPadme
Summary: After the strains of the Battle of Helm's Deep, all Éomer wants is some damn sleep. When he gets to his chambers though, the bed is already occupied.
Relationships: Aragorn | Estel/Legolas Greenleaf, Aragorn | Estel/Éomer Éadig, Aragorn | Estel/Éomer Éadig/Legolas Greenleaf, Éomer Éadig/Legolas Greenleaf
Comments: 13
Kudos: 73





	Shorten the reigns

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks once more to the wonderful SecretlyThranduil for betaing!
> 
> I have no excuse. Not that I need one. Have you met me?

"Uh."

Sure, after carrying Gimli's half-passed out body to the nearest flat surface for the night, Éomer had spent a second wondering where the rest of the Fellowship had left off to, seeing as Gandalf and the two hobbits seemed to be the only members left still busy drinking and dancing or, respectively, brooding.

But truth was, the night was getting too old for even one more ale with friends. Éomer had never felt more tired than after this catastrophe at the Hornburg that had cost so many lives. Where a few years back, the last of battle energy left in his body would long have lured him to some half-lit corner with one of his soldiers to let off some steam … Right now, nothing sounded more heavenly than a few hours of silence in his chambers. With the castle hopelessly overcrowded in spite of how many people had died, having a place to retire was luxury right now, and given all they'd lost in these last few days, it was the only one he was willing to allow himself; a small merit for the commanders in battle.

Apparently, someone else had had that idea, though. And while Éomer was usually willing to share what was his – unless it was his horse or his sword –, the last thing he'd expected to find in his bedroom after a quick stop in the bathhouses was the other two Hunters of the Fellowship, half-naked and very unambiguously busy with each other.

He knew he was staring and he shouldn't; but there was really no way, the two of them could have missed his too-heavy steps in the antechamber or the rumbling of various parts of his clothes being carelessly dropped to the ground.

But if Aragorn and Legolas knew they were being watched, they obviously couldn't care less. In fact, when a pair of sharp grey eyes turned his way, an eyebrow was being raised provocatively, and Aragorn's hand only seemed to tighten in his lover's blond hair, keeping that eagerly bopping head right where it was, buried between his legs …

It was Éomer who suddenly felt very naked, with only a thin pair of breeches and a half unbuttoned shirt on his body.

After clearing his throat, at least he didn't sound that hoarse anymore, and hopefully not half as intrigued as he was. He'd very obviously stumbled into something very private – and clearly secret – here, and normally, he'd just turn on his heel and get out of here – Eru knew they could use all the distraction they could get right now.

But every other damn room in this building was occupied, and he could _really_ use some sleep before the next of crisis conversation and scraping more blood and bone off the rocks of his home tomorrow.

"I'm afraid you are in the wrong room, my friends."

"On the contrary, milord. I was beginning to worry you'd prefer the company of ale and song to ours all night." Aragorn made no move to stop anything they were doing or get up from that freshly made bed that wasn't his. Instead, he leaned back comfortably against the massive high frame, the fingertips of his free hand tracing the carved adornments of horse and rider almost casually.

"Right now, I would prefer a pillow and some solitude over even more stimulation."

Éomer tried his best to sound dismissive, still busy trying to find polite words to get rid of someone who might or not soon become his most important political relation – one more reason why he _really_ shouldn't be standing in this doorway, gaping at said future King while he was getting sucked off by one of his war companions.

It was entirely impossible to look _away,_ though.

"Do you." An almost predatory glint shone in Aragorn's eyes. The faint flush of arousal on his dark cheeks had started to spread down to his throat, far beyond the crumpled collar of his wine-red tunic, glistening in a first few drops of salt on the side of his neck that Éomer really felt like licking away. "Unless my eyes are failing me, you very much seem to enjoy what you see."

Éomer cursed silently and bravely withstood the urge to cover the increasingly tented front of his breeches that the bad lighting of just a few candles in here had not been able to hide.

Well, it was becoming pretty obvious that his two friends didn't mind having a little audience. In fact, the elf still hadn't even looked up from what he was doing, and so far, the only thing Éomer had heard from _his_ lips were obscene slurping noises.

Since Éomer wasn't going anywhere before he had his bed back, he might as well enjoy a little more distraction before sleeping the last of ale in his blood off ... If only this hadn’t been so damn inappropriate. The last thing he needed at breakfast tomorrow was awkwardness between him and people he should be trusting with his life henceforth …

Unfortunately, even from behind, he could easily see that the elf's hand that he was not bracing himself on, had reached between his legs, and that was definitely a sight to behold. Those damn bright breeches were more than tight enough to make out that said hand was not only busy fondling his cock but had wandered further backwards, a back and forth motion paired with the most beautiful, musical moan Éomer had ever heard revealing that Legolas had just breached himself with a finger or two.

Oh, damn everything.

"So you two are … uh … bonded?" Though the heat throbbing through his own veins and especially his loins, made it difficult to focus on anything but the last restraint that kept him from joining that tempting scene right there and then, the last of the confusion was still nagging on Éomer's mind. What he was seeing right here didn't exactly go with what he'd heard about elvish customs.

Aragorn leaned his head back with something between a chuckle and a groan, biting his lip hard when his lover seemed to do something especially scandalous with his tongue. "Marrying into King Thranduil's family? I'd rather kiss an orc."

When a pair of darkened, ocean-blue eyes glared at him from below, he just patted Legolas' hair, almost absently, and shoved him back towards his groin, which drew a short choking noise and an even louder moan from his lover. "Keep your teeth to yourself, my Prince, if you don't want to ride the crop again instead of my cock later. And no."

He turned to Éomer again as if nothing had happened, a lopsided grin curling on his lips when he saw the way, Éomer was shifting his weight, tugging on the seam of pants that had definitely become too tight at this point. "Elvish bonding involves an intentional act of will and consent on both sides. In Silvan and Sindar circles, there's always been less of a taboo against sexual relations outside a marriage. And my betrothed in Imladris would never forgive me if I didn't take our best friend here out of his own head from time to time."

This time it was a loving touch he regarded his lover's hair with, softly caressing fingertips on the tip of a reddened ear, and the way Legolas' hips thrust back against his own fingers immediately, demanded every bit of Éomer's composure to stay where he was. "Too much brooding clouds a soul, Éomer, and a heavy soul has no focus in battle. I don’t think you need anyone to tell you that."

"Hardly."

In fact, Éomer thought, maybe he was not tired enough after all to not seek out one of his usual lovers of his Éored for at least a quick handjob in the pantry or maybe even a rough shag in the stables. There was no way he would find any rest before, not with the images burned into his mind right now.

"I guess I'll leave you to it then." He really tried to turn away, to get out of here before he could embarrass himself even further. But he was almost unpleasantly hard by now and couldn't walk down the hallway like this; also, Aragorn's hand had just slipped inside his own shirt and was very clearly busy pulling and twisting certain sensitive spots there, more needy moans filling the room, and …

"Get that fine piece of ass on this bed, Rohir." It was Éomer's turn to blush, and Aragorn's smile only grew. "I didn't peg you for someone who needed a written invitation."

Éomer didn't.

Still a little hesitant, he got himself to approach his friends, not entirely sure where this was going yet, or how far. Starting with the question of if he was supposed to get out of clothes that had become too hot, thereby interrupting something that was so obviously harmonic and, so far, taking place only between these two ethereally beautiful beings.

Sensing the hint of shyness in the air, Aragorn gently pushed Legolas away from him, which had Éomer's mouth water given the sheer length of hard cock slipping from the elf's beautiful full lips, his _throat_. Only when Aragorn's eyes wandered to his midsection and the other man wetted his too-dry lips with his tongue, Éomer really realized, he'd started to stroke himself through his pants.

But his battle partner made no move to reach out and pull him close, once more proving the thoughtful sensitivity that Éomer had already come to appreciate as a necessary anchor and opposite pole in more than one discussion with his rougher-edged uncle.

"I think our guest needs a little more encouragement, my Prince." He dropped his own tunic unceremoniously on the carpet next to the bed and impatiently tugged on Legolas' sleeve. "Show him how beautiful you are."

Éomer _stared_ – he was entirely unable not to. He'd known of course, how pleasing Firstborn were to the mannish eye, but he'd never had the joy of seeing one of them unclothed before. Just like that, his last inhibitions about this unexpected encounter went out of the window – this, right here, was a gift, an honor he would definitely not refuse, for whatever reason it was being given to him of all people. He still couldn't bring himself to move, but this time, it was because he was getting drunk on taking in and memorizing every inch of milky skin revealed.

A miracle flawless, except for one or two fresh wounds from the battle that had already scarred. Arms that were nothing but muscle. Slender hips that didn't quite match the broad back of someone who'd been brought up on a bow and arrow instead of a bottle …

But what was really catching Éomer's eyes were two narrow, silver rings adorning the elf's bright nipples, a rare kind of modification that Éomer had mostly only seen on Haradrim people before.

"Another Silvan tradition", Aragorn explained, following his look, as Legolas was apparently not interested in talking at all, giving how hastily he wormed his way out of his breeches next, startling when the coarse fabric rubbed over the reddened, swollen flesh and skin revealed at his groin.

"The warrior edition. One for the first kill on a hunt, the other for the first kill in battle. One more somewhere … else, for laying with someone for the first time." A playful, aroused grin tugged on Aragorn's lips. In an unexpectedly gentle gesture of care, he reached into a pocket of those damn breeches he was still wearing and used the chance of Legolas sitting with his back to him to quickly braid his hair back for the rest of whatever game they were up to next.

Éomer was still too busy trying to figure out where that third piercing was supposed to be to react. He felt like he wanted to worship every inch of this wiry figure right now, with his hands and lips and tongue, until it would be him that this gorgeous body was trembling for so much. Only then, he would shift his efforts to the place between those gracile long legs and …

He was almost disappointed when Legolas went back to what he'd been busy with earlier, robbing him of that sight. Not without raising an eyebrow at him too though, unlike Aragorn earlier using the left one, perfectly mirroring his leader's prompt, before shamelessly presenting his now bare backside and what was probably the best piece of ass Éomer had ever seen, when he bent over Aragorn's cock again.

There were only so many invitations you could say no to when high on blood, victory and grief.

Finally stepping close enough to give in to his growing urges, Éomer slowly ran his hands over those beautiful narrow flanks, admiring the steel cords that were the muscles in those lewdly spread thighs with massaging strokes before wandering up higher, curious fingertips tracing a few fresh welts on the curve of Legolas' behind. Suddenly he had a good idea what that crop carelessly dropped in the corner over there had been used for before he'd come here.

"So, what kind of tradition is _that_?"

"That?" Aragorn's toothy grin was full of dominance, of the pleasure he was taking from his lover that the elf was so willingly giving him, while losing himself and the air of depression that even Éomer had sensed radiating from Legolas the whole evening, in deep devotion. "That one is called _Don't fucking question your leader five minutes before a battle_."

Legolas somehow managed to huff even with a thick piece of cock between his lips. A sound that turned into a protesting keen, because Éomer – who had heard about that stupid fight between the two Ring Companions from his people and was wholly on Aragorn's side – pinched one of these almost artful red strips crisscrossing on the elf's ass; followed by a harsh slap to that cheek when he was next to be regarded with an offended look back over a broad shoulder.

"Weren't you busy with something, master elf?" Éomer nodded at the open halves of Aragorn's breeches, bravely withstanding the temptation to just trade spots with Legolas for a while, because that was really a very nice cock begging for attention there. But he also wanted to get more than just his hands on this gorgeous body right before him.

And just like Aragorn, apparently, he'd always had a taste for keeping his toys and tools in a firm grip of control. With someone who was so obviously enjoying being on the receiving end of that, it would have been foolish not to give Aragorn a little hand here in educational measures.

"Behave." He left another, even harder slap on Legolas' other ass cheek, the print of his five fingers a very nice addition to the red and purple strips there. It helped to wipe that pout of protest from Legolas' lips and make him get back to work at least, and the high moan from his busy lips when Éomer slipped his hands up and down his chest next, curious fingertips tugging on the metal dangling from there, was sweetest reward.

The next slap landed on Legolas' fragile wrist, just in time before the elf could reach between his legs again and give his proudly erected, slightly curved cock some attention.

"None of that," Éomer admonished him sharply. "It looks to me like our future King is displeased about your behavior prior to the battle, so I think you should rather focus your attention on him, master elf."

When he saw Legolas tense up just the slightest bit, he added, in a far softer, soothing tone matching his languid caresses over Legolas's slightly shaking thighs, his hips, the deep curve of his back: "How about you show us how well an elvish Prince can follow orders for a while? If you're doing well, I might personally take care of that sweet cock of yours later while you're riding your King."

Legolas seemed to think that was quite a fair offer. Giving in to the impatient pressure of Aragorn's hand on his neck again, he took the other man's cock in again in one fluid motion, until his lips were pressed to the slight, dark fuzz covering Aragorn's groin.

Aragorn had to reach back for the headboard again to hold on to, a hefty curse in a language on his lips that Éomer had never heard before.

Those strained swallowing and licking noises from the elf's lips were extraordinarily inspiring, so Éomer sat down between Aragorn's widely spread legs to get to the object of his desire, at last. A body part that had been drawing his attention in fact not only since entering this room tonight, and that was looking so much better than he'd allowed himself to fantasize about it, especially with all those nice little traces of punishment added to it. Éomer made sure to follow every single one of those welts with the tip of his tongue, keeping his elvish lover in place with a firm grip on his loins, before licking a broad, hungry strip over the slightly reddened hole between those firm globes.

An aroused whimper from Legolas' lips had Aragorn gasp and startle; the mattress shifted as he thrust up firmly into Legolas' willing mouth. "Do that again, Éomer."

For a moment, Éomer was tempted to tell him _he_ wasn't here for any orders by Gondor's future King. But his senses were filled with the touch of the softest skin he'd ever been allowed to feel, with a faint scent of raisin and bark all around him and with having a lover shake helplessly from the lust he was dealing out. So, he put his efforts in that instead, covering his lover's exposed opening with firm licks and teasing kisses, until the moans Legolas was breathing around Aragorn's cock became pleading.

Only then, he allowed his tongue to slip deep inside that hot channel, slow at first, tentatively, then in a steadily growing rhythm that made Legolas arch up and writhe so much under his grip that the superior strength of a Firstborn made it almost impossible to keep him still. Éomer found he didn't care; he was enjoying the choked sobbing and keening noises far too much that the usually reserved elf was making around his lover's cock. He let his lover ride him, thrusting into him as deeply as possible while his fingertips were busy exploring that strange and alluring jewelry on his chest, carefully pulling and twisting the cool metal.

Even until he could feel the heavy, large balls occasionally slapping against his throat when he was licking especially deeply inside his lover's willing ass, tighten up dangerously against Legolas' body and the elf's noises of lust turned into a deep, long-drawn out, desperate groan.

Éomer blindly reached down to grab that pretty cock for the first time that was dripping precum all over his covers. He had half a mind to notice he'd just found the third piercing in question when his hand stroked down the throbbing length, only to take its root in an unforgiving grip before Legolas could come from nothing but being tongue-fucked and having his nipples played with. While that would have been fascinating to see, Éomer was not willing to let this little game end so quickly.

The dismayed whine on Legolas' lips only seemed to add to the pleasure he was giving his other lover. When Éomer got up again on shaking legs, it was just in time to see Aragorn bury both his hands in his lover's messy hair, keeping him pressed against his hips unforgivingly, with his head leaned far back and his breeches basically soaked through by now. The future King moaned out his lust and filthy encouragements, while Legolas gasped for air in vain, struggling and sucking and writhing and very obviously enjoying himself deeply.

Only when the lack of air seemed to become almost too hard to handle even for an elf, and Legolas' hands clenched down hard on the covers under his sweat-covered body did Aragorn let go of him.

Just enough for Legolas to retreat a few inches, with teary eyes and his face dark red but with his pupils still wide blown with arousal, lips greedily wrapped around Aragorn's cock as he swallowed every single drop of seed from the orgasm he had just ripped out of his friend.

When Aragorn could see somewhat clearly again and caught Éomer once more staring, open-mouthed, he chuckled quietly and winked at him.

Wrapping his arms around Legolas's shoulders, he pulled the elf up from where he had half collapsed on his chest, still visibly turned on, slightly frustrated but deeply caught up in that space in his head where his greatest pleasure seemed to be serving not one but two masters tonight.

"Thank you, mellon." The two Companions kissed hungrily, Aragorn visibly unfazed and used to the taste of his own release in his lover's mouth, a sight that had Éomer's own neglected cock twitch painfully. Aragorn took only a few moments to retie the mess that was Legolas' braid and then murmured something to him that Éomer didn't quite catch.

It turned out, he didn't need to because while Aragorn left them alone for a moment – finally losing those damn pants as Éomer saw from the corner of his eyes –, Éomer was suddenly being pulled down on the bed by supernatural strong arms before he knew what was happening. Approximately five seconds later, his own clothes were just a memory on the floor.

He didn't get around to even put his hands back on that lovely body suddenly moving over, above around his, before a clever pair of lips was covering his shoulders and chest in needy, open-mouthed kisses and small licks. The slightest scrape of teeth against his hardened nipples drew an appreciative moan from his lips, a signal well understood, as both his nipples were taken into the unforgiving grip of calloused archer fingertips next, kneaded and pulled almost a little too firmly and just right while hot, quick breath ghosted over his belly further down.

If it hadn't been for the famous elvish healing factor, Éomer might have spent a worried second or two wondering if Legolas would actually be able to open his mouth again tomorrow after using it so thoroughly and seemingly without tiring. As it was, it was hard to gather up any coherent thought at all right now. At the latest when that soft pair of lips closed around the leaking tip of his cock for the first time, a cheeky tongue dancing along that same oversensitive cleft on the underside that his lover sported another piece of metal on. Apparently, the non-existence of a proper gag reflex was also one of those famous Silvan characteristics, because Legolas had his lips and nose firmly pressed against Éomer's groin before he'd even reached down a trembling hand to slow him down a little.

And then he forgot what he'd actually wanted a second ago. His eyes fell closed as the world around him vanished, taking with it all the memories of his people dying around him, and his home and land laying in ruins at least for a few minutes. Every conscious thought shrank down to nothing but the heat and tension in his groin, the salt dripping over his skin as he helplessly thrust up into the warm wetness of a silken elvish mouth.

He heard throaty moans and some stupid babbling like _More_ and _Don't Stop_ and one or two filthy Rohan curses echo through the room, the latter telling him that those embarrassing noises might actually come from him. Soon enough, he felt his own height build deep inside, his back arching almost painfully as Legolas thrust his head down onto him once more firmly, swallowing around him …

The sudden end would have been slightly disappointing, so he was almost glad when his lover retreated unexpectedly, the hands he was heavily braving himself on Éomer's thighs on suddenly clenching down until his nails were almost drawing blood. A strangled, hissed sound on his lips betrayed how busy his throat had been in the last hour. " _Ai_ …"

Éomer somehow managed to blink his sight free again and found with little surprise Aragorn cowering on the bed behind his elvish lover, hand glistening with a generous amount of massage oil that he'd obviously just snatched from Éomer's nightstand – at this point, Éomer was far too turned on to feel even mock-offended.

He sat up just a little more, an admonishing hand on Legolas' neck that pushed the elf's head back where he needed to feel it right now and forced him to lower his upper body in the process, so that Éomer had the perfect view of two of Aragorn's fingers deeply thrusting into that very same tight ass that Éomer had just had so much fun with. Gently wrapping his hand around his lover's braid, this time Éomer remembered to slow down Legolas' enthusiastic movements a little because he very much liked where this was going. And with the tiredness sitting in his bones, he wasn't sure he would have been up for a second round half as quickly as Aragorn would be, whose thick cock was already very interested in the proceedings again, while his quickly working fingers scissored his lover open for them.

"Guess I should have warned you." Aragorn nodded down on Legolas' bent down shape with a smirk, never stopping what he was doing but adding a third finger instead, which had their elvish lover moan out so helplessly, right there around the dripping wet tip of Éomer's cock, that he was convinced for a moment, he would come from that alone. "From time to time, you need to gag him, but he's got a really wicked mouth on him."

"You don't say." Éomer would have rolled his eyes if he hadn't been so damn busy not coming down that velvety throat right there and then.

Not quite only selflessly, he gave his lover a little break, trembling fingertips softly caressing the reddened skin of Legolas' neck where both Aragorn and him had left more than one print by now. "After serving both of us so well, you deserve a treat, master elf. Would you like to be fucked now?"

The way Legolas' eyes darkened immediately, pupils full blown, and seeing how he was thrusting back his hips greedily against Aragorn's intrusion even more demanding, was enough of an answer.

"Thought so." Éomer grazed the swollen, chapped skin of Legolas' lips carefully with his thumb and shuddered when Legolas bit down on the tip none too gently. "Who of us do you want?"

Legolas smiled mischievously and stretched out his tongue again until he could lick off the new beads of white from Éomer's cock, one by one.

Soon, Éomer was shaking under him once more, his hand clenched under the pillow under his head, and suddenly he had to wonder who _actually_ was in charge here.

"Who says, I have to choose?"

Éomer was pretty sure that every drop of blood had just gone straight to his cock and that he would pass out if they kept this up any longer. He turned his wide eyes back to Aragorn, only to realize that his friend had four quickly working fingers deep in their lover's swollen hole, and that Legolas was still pressing back against him, wanton, mewling for more, so he'd probably heard him right.

"Uh … really?"

"He's taken more, don't worry."

Aragorn pressed a quick, soft kiss to one of Legolas' tortured cheeks and carefully pulled back his hand, wrapping his arms around his lover to get him to scoot further up on the bed. "Don't come before we tell you to, my Prince. Don't make me put a ring on you tonight."

Legolas pouted for approximately a split second but was far too turned on at this point to protest. He started peppering Éomer's neck and shoulder with yearning little kisses, sucking on his skin, smiling at Éomer's choked gasp when a calloused hand closed around his cock, giving him a few lazy strokes.

Then he suddenly bit down on the spot between shoulder and neck so hard that Éomer knew he would find a deep bruise there tomorrow, panting helplessly when Aragorn guided Éomer's straining cock in the right spot and they fell into each other without any resistance.

Eating his lover out earlier had had nothing on this sensation of smooth, hot tightness enveloping him right now, of the clench of strong muscles riling him up further until all he could do was thrust his hips shallowly into that goodness, seeking more, seeking the completion that this wonderful unification promised.

"Please …"

"Patience … You don't want the future King of your neighboring country outlasting you, would you?" Amusement narrowed Legolas' heated eyes, he was obviously enjoying that it was now Éomer writhing under him, burying his hands so firmly in his slim thighs that he left even more traces there while he sought not to lose himself to the too-long awaited orgasm at once.

Éomer had a rude word or two on his lips, but they all ended in a breathless groan because this was when Aragorn finally chose to enter the game again, the mattress dipping under his weight as he knelt down behind his elvish lover. Throbbing wetness, burning hotter than Legolas' skin, pressed against his own straining cock, stretching the hole quivering helplessly around them further than it should be possible.

For a moment it seemed like an impossible fit, and the small whimper on Legolas' tight lips was not only one of lust this time.

But then he went limp in Éomer's arms, trembling all over, too long, too hard nails scraping down Éomer's arms until their fingers intertwined and Legolas breathed a deep sob of relief against his neck, his muscles giving in that needed inch more.

They still moved slowly though because they all wanted to enjoy this feeling of being so closely joined as long as possible. Aragorn had his lips on Legolas' ear, licking and nibbling on the sensitive rim from time to time and whispering to him how well he was doing for them, how beautiful he was, impaled on two cocks at once.

He pulled his lover close to his chest just enough so that Éomer could start playing with his flushed and hardened nipples again, slowly pulling them taut more and more by the rings in them until Legolas let out a quiet scream, tightening up impossibly further around them, and collapsed on Éomer's chest again. At some point, he started begging, out of his millennia-old mind with desire and growing pressure, burying his hands in Aragorn's hair for purchase while he thrust down his hips on both of them, chasing something just out of reach.

Éomer was first to have mercy on him, mostly because he was pretty sure he wouldn't have hold out another minute of feeling Aragorn's cock press against his, or of that sensation of oversensitive thin walls gripping down on them again and again. His eyes fixed on the grimace of lust on Legolas' face, he closed his hand around the elf's cock. Two sloppy, quick strokes was all it took before Legolas tightened up around them so firmly that his orgasm slammed into Éomer headfirst. He threw his head back with a cry, feeling an unreal amount of warm white drip over his belly and even more around his pulsating cock as Aragorn and he spent themselves together in this waiting, welcoming hole.

He didn't know much after that.

He woke up again from the light, patient tap of a thin rod of leather and wood against his bare thigh. It was still the middle of the night when he opened his eyes, blinking in exhaustion and confusion, trying to move, just to find out that his arms were bound to a bedpost with his own belt.

And standing right before him was an elf with a broad grin on his lips and a riding crop in his hand, while the future King of Gondor was sitting in an armchair in a corner, smoking his pipe.

Well, fuck.


End file.
